


Blaze of Glory

by Luna



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Bespin, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 20:16:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20297326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna/pseuds/Luna
Summary: The first time they touch down on Cloud City, Lando is profoundly unimpressed. They're coming to make a deal, a simple CICO—Psycho,Han said earlier, flaring his nostrils and baring his teeth. Lando groaned,credits-in-credits-out, you lugnut, it's—I know,Han interrupted, grinning,I just like to make you make that face.





	Blaze of Glory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mazily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mazily/gifts).

> Original trilogy canon only.

The first time they touch down on Cloud City, Lando is profoundly unimpressed. They're coming to make a deal, a simple CICO—

_Psycho,_ Han said earlier, flaring his nostrils and baring his teeth. Lando groaned, _credits-in-credits-out, you lugnut, it's—I know,_ Han interrupted, grinning, _I just like to make you make that face._

—And it's a cold welcome. They scrape the Falcon into a narrow dock between hulking Tibanna gas freighters, and wait there for contact. The surface of the city is pocked with exhaust ports, and the air smells sweetly toxic. An itch at the back of Lando's throat. A million people live here, breathing this in.

Han, beside him, fidgeting: "Why do we even need clean money?"

Lando shrugs, makes sure his cape hangs evenly. "Most things are cheaper on the legitimate market."

"Cheapest of all if you steal 'em," Han says.

"I never steal."

"No, you cheat. Shamelessly."

"Why be ashamed?" Lando smiles. "It's not cheating if you've never agreed to the rules of the game."

A rusty envoy droid rolls up to lead them to the meeting. They follow it into the mine headquarters. Curving hallways, crowded with beings from all over the galaxy wearing the same dirt-colored uniform, which, Lando observes, somehow manages to be ill-fitting on everyone. 

"I never agreed to any rules in my life," Han says.

"You joined the Imperial Navy," Lando points out, _sotto voce._

Han makes a strangled noise. "Under a fake name! For all of five minutes! I wasn't planning on actually following orders—hell, I _shot_ my commanding officer—"

The floor is sticky under Lando's boots. There's plenty of money in mining, no excuse for everything to look so grubby, so aggressively unlovable. 

"I went AWOL before I ever even got _paid,_" Han adds. He sounds genuinely hurt.

Lando relents, tips him a wink. "I know. You went out in a blaze of glory."

The crowds are thinner on the top floor, and the corridors are clean in a hostile way, reeking of bleach. The mine boss barely looks up when they walk into his office, grunts rather than greeting them. Then again, Lando blackmailed his way to this point, so why stand on ceremony?

"Baron," he says, and pulls over a chair, sits with one ankle propped on the opposite knee, arms loose and relaxed. Casual, comfortable, and here to stay.

The mine boss scowls. "You were told to come alone, Calrissian."

"That's my pilot," Lando says. Over his shoulder, to Han: "You may go."

Han does something that's halfway between a salute and an obscene gesture. Lando can't help smirking, watching him stroll out. He wasn't looking for a partner when Han blustered into his life, never imagined it would work like this. For all the ways they're opposites—in style, temperament, temperature—there's a deeper, unspoken synchronicity. They move together so well, the left and right halves of a graceful sleight of hand. It's true at the card table, and it's true in bed, and it's true in the cockpit of the Falcon.

Han loves that ship, his blaster, and Sabacc, maybe loves Lando, in a way that's only possible for an orphan. There's still something of the half-starved boy about him, all fast-twitch muscle and willingness and want. Someday all that longing just might coalesce around a single point, and—well. That's how stars form. You see it once in a lifetime, if you're lucky.

It takes a couple hours to convince the mine boss that he's getting the better end of the deal. They even close the meeting with an old-fashioned handshake. Lando leaves with his head bowed humbly, laughing to himself all the way back to the dock.

Han's waiting outside the Falcon, tossing a shuura fruit up and catching it. When he sees Lando, he takes a big, noisy bite. "Satisfied?" he says, with his mouth full.

"I am." There's a highly valuable data chip tucked up in Lando's sleeve. "Get anything good?"

"Mm. There's a crate of these on board," Han says, and when Lando raises an eyebrow, "What, do you wanna get scurvy?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of information," Lando says.

"You mean gossip," Han says, correctly. "It's tricky, half the beings here barely even speak Basic. There's only a couple things the whole city agrees on. Like: the work's shit, but the pay's good."

Lando throws a glance back at the dull hallway. "What in hell are they spending it on?"

"Food and booze, mainly, and Sabacc—there's a big casino down below, we could clean up—"

The Tibanna freighter that had hemmed them in is moving now, pulling away its shadow. The light from Bespin's clouds spills across the Falcon, sunset colors washing the gray. It plays the same trick all across the city. Lando imagines it pouring in through the skylights, piercing the grime, turning everything from lead to gold.

"—Course, they hate the company," Han goes on, "hate the boss—"

"—But love the view," Lando says.

Han turns to follow his gaze. They stand there for a minute, watching ships drift in silhouette against the brilliant horizon, It's the toxins in the air that make the colors so beautiful. Then again, it's always easier to breathe outside the bounds of the Empire, free from all those rules by which they never agreed to play.

"It's all right," Han says, and takes another bite of his shuura. "But it ain't stars."

"Now, see, you're looking at what's there," Lando says, "and I'm looking at what could be."

The light makes Han's eyes amber, the juice on his lips and fingers bright. "You wanna fill me in?"

Lando grew up hungry, too, harbors as much desire as Han does. But he's a little older, and more disciplined by a factor of hundreds. So he knows that he'll never get everything he wants. The time comes when you choose what to chase, what to hold, and what to let slip away.

"Maybe later," Lando says.

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday, mazily!


End file.
